It's Been A Long Day
by WritePassion
Summary: As a SEAL, Sam often had to take down the enemy, but this was murky water in which he found himself. Choosing his friend's life over that of a stranger, Sam tries to cope with the aftermath. One big SPOILER for 7.03. Added a second chapter 6/24, but that IS the end!
1. Chapter 1

_Burn Notice: I don't own it, I just like to play with it. This is dedicated to my Twitter friends who pushed for me to write a story about 7.03. If you haven't seen it, this is one big spoiler._

**It's Been A Long Day**

By WritePassion

A black flight flew them into the Dominican Republic and another flew them out, only the second time Sam wasn't piloting the plane. It was just as well because he was beyond tired. Sitting in the uncomfortable seat, bouncing with each wave of turbulence, their conveyance felt more like a shaker loosening the last bit of energy from Sam's body. He imagined it dripped onto the floor along with the sweat from his skin, and if they didn't dispose of the plane the minute it landed in Miami, some CIA housekeeping lackey would mop it up and it would be gone. If only the day's events could be erased so easily.

"You okay, Sam? You've been pretty quiet," Jesse mumbled from the seat beside him. A particularly large air pocket caused the plane to drop like a stone, and he grabbed the edge of the seat to steady himself.

"I'm fine, Jesse." Sam stared out the window at the darkness, punctuated now and then by a bolt of lightning.

"Looks like they're trying to fly around a storm," Jesse observed. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a subject that would get Sam's mind off of what happened. But how do you distract a guy from recalling that he killed a man who had his back to him? Yes, Mike would have been dead if Sam hadn't taken the shot, but then again, who knew? The choice was made and it could never be taken back. Decisions like that were never pleasant, but when your friend's life is in the balance, you do what you have to do and deal with the aftershocks later.

Sam could only think about the pressure of his finger against the trigger as he watched Mike standing in the open, one second away from death. He waited as long as he could, hoping the merc would turn around before he saw Mike and take action. He had his orders. Either way Mike was going to wind up dead, but Sam couldn't stand for that.

When they went over the plan, Burke told Sam that if things got hairy he should take down Mike. He said it with no emotion or hesitation in his voice, and it sickened Sam knowing that he was supposed to shoot his best friend in cold blood. When Mike asked him if he was okay with it ,Sam was glad for the saliva created by his furious gum chewing, or he never would have been able to answer the way he did.

"Yeah, no problem." He didn't lie to his friends very often, but that was the biggest falsehood ever. There was no way in hell he could shoot Mike and kill him.

So a stranger was easier? The guy was just doing his job. Strong telling him that the guard was part of a dirty dealing group didn't help matters. He still killed a guy.

If he closed his eyes the scene played over and over behind his lids. Unfortunately, at the moment he was so exhausted that he couldn't keep his eyes open, and his turncoat brain forced him to begin the horror show again.

Waves of heat shimmered across the field and distorted the image, but through the scope he saw everything clearly. His molars ground against the gum inside his mouth to diffuse the tension. At the fateful moment, his finger pulled lightly on the trigger, the explosion rocked his ears, and the casing spit up into the air as the bullet zipped on its trajectory. Within a second it pierced the man's back right about where his heart was. Blood spurted from the exploding organ as his victim dropped like a lifeless sandbag. Sam spit out the gum. It was either that or the contents of his stomach. He saved Mike's life, but he wasn't the least bit proud of it.

As a SEAL, he often had to take down the enemy, but this was murky water in which he found himself. They were working with the CIA helping a criminal steal a truck from a company that Strong claimed was just as bad as Burke. He wasn't about to trust anyone in the CIA to tell the truth anymore. He was only there because of his friendship and loyalty to Mike, and he didn't want his friend to die because of Agency incompetence or worse.

The plane jarred Sam, and his head flew up. Dim lights in the cabin showed him that Jesse was still sitting across the aisle, a thin smiled pasted onto his face. "We're at the Opa-loka Airport, Sammy. We're almost home."

"Great." He was so wiped out, he couldn't even pretend to be happy that they were back in the Miami area and Mike was God knows where. Hopefully Burke didn't take matters into his own hands and kill Mike himself.

"You need a ride home, man?"

"No. No, I'm good. Thanks, Jesse." Sam stumbled on the last step before his feet hit the tarmac, and Jesse grasped his arm to steady him. He pulled away, feeling so disgusted with himself that he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to be around him. "I'm fine, Jesse." Under the glare of a mercury lamp, he saw his friend's concern. "I'll be careful driving home. I promise."

"Okay." He agreed, but all the way to the cars Jesse kept casting glances until Sam was about ready to punch him. "We'll talk tomorrow, okay? Shoot some hoops in the morning? I still have that surveillance job, you know."

Sam's chuckle was weak. "Thanks, but I think I'll be sleeping in tomorrow. Night, Jess." He got into the car and pulled out before Jesse could say another word. He didn't need the look of pity in his eyes. Jesse probably never had to deal with a situation like this, so he would never understand. No one could. As he drove the highway back to Miami, Sam considered stopping for a drink, or two or three, to numb the unpleasant tingling in his nerve endings. When he curled his hand around the steering wheel he swore he could feel the trigger. He shook away the thought and swerved a little. Sam gasped when he realized that his eyes had closed and for a few moments he'd fallen asleep. He straightened the BMW, checked his speed, and continued on his way.

Red and blue lights dappled the ceiling and the sun visors. "Aw, crap. Just what I need." Without hesitation, Sam pulled the car off to the side of the road, put it in park, and turned on the dome light before resting his wrists on the steering wheel.

The cop approached him with caution, and he flashed the bright beam into Sam's face. "Sir, license and registration, please."

Sam glanced up at him, his eyes begging him to just let him be on his way. "What are you stopping me for, Officer?"

That was the wrong thing to ask. Beyond the light, he saw the officer shake his head before he spoke. "Sir, please get out of the car."

"I'm not drunk, Officer. I've just had a really... long... day." Sam unhooked his seat belt and slowly emerged from the car. He held his hands up so the officer could see he had nothing to hide. "If I could just go home and get into my own bed, I'll be fine tomorrow."

"Yeah, right." The officer stood close enough to smell Sam's breath. He looked confused that he didn't detect any alcohol, and with each field sobriety test he became more unnerved because Sam passed each one. Sam kept apologizing, saying, "I'm really exhausted, Officer. I swear that's all it is!"

Another deputy sheriff pulled up behind the first deputy's car. Between the two of them, they finally decided to drive Sam home, and in the morning he could get his car from impound. The deputy allowed him to sit up front, and the seat was cushier and more comfortable than the airplane seat. He drifted off before he was even close to home.

That's not to say his sleep was pleasant or dreamless. The visions came back and with them the tension. He bit the inside of his cheek thinking he was still chewing the gum. He fought the urge to thrash, and in his half-asleep state he had no doubt the cop was only too happy to deposit him on the doorstep of Elsa's mansion with the butler looking on in surprise.

"You're home, Mr. Axe."

"Yeah. Is Elsa here?" Part of him hoped she wasn't, because he wasn't prepared to see her. She wouldn't know how to deal with him.

"She's in the office at the moment, Sir. Shall I..."

"No, don't get her. I'm going to bed. Night." Sam used the last of his energy to trudge upstairs and dragged his feet all the way to the bedroom at the end of the hall. He opened his eyes and smiled slightly. Seeing the soft, fluffy bed with the cloud-like pillows forced his feet to move forward. He flopped face first into the downiness and exhaled, a deep moaning accompanying the action.

But he wasn't finished yet. He felt sticky and gritty, and no doubt the remnants of his guilt clung to him more tenaciously than his sweat. He needed a shower to wash it away, at least the physical evidence. The rest would stick with him forever.

The spray from the fancy water tiles in the shower came at him from all directions and massaged his skin with warm prickles, an onslaught that made him think about combat. They hadn't been in combat, at least not in the general sense. The man he shot could have been one of his own countrymen working in the DR. He wasn't an enemy... or was he? The whole situation was so convoluted, it would drive him crazy trying to sort it out. In the end it didn't matter. It wouldn't bring his victim back.

The first sob jerked him like a hiccup. Sam whisked the water away from his face as another came on its heels. He was too wiped out to fight it, and soon the uneven pattern of his weeping echoed against the dark Italian tiles. The water fell from overhead and three sides like a gentle rain beating him until he fell to his knees. He covered his face, trying to hide from the condemnation his conscience heaped upon him.

"Sam? Sammy. Oh my god, Sam! Are you okay?"

Elsa's voice sounded like it was miles away until she opened the glass door. The water splashed up and hit her, but her only concern was the man who crouched in the puddle on the floor, his arms folded over his head, his entire body jerking with the release of his grief. Elsa shucked her shoes and got into the large shower, reached for the controls, and turned off the water. It stopped falling on him and the rushing sound, which was usually peaceful and relaxing, faded away.

"Sam, what happened? Are you hurt?" Elsa crouched beside him and raked an arm over his wet back, not caring that her expensive suit would probably be ruined. In a soft, soothing voice, she begged, "Please, Baby, talk to me. Talk to me. What happened today?"

He didn't answer, but at least he uncovered his face and looked at her. She had never seen such agony emitting from him. Elsa stroked the water-logged hair around his ear, smoothing it and trying to soothe him.

"I... I can't talk about it, Elsa. I... I just can't." A new wave of sorrow hit him knowing that she could never know why he broke down. He had half a mind to just spill it and be done with it, but he knew it would be just a momentary fix. In the morning, regret would accompany the guilt and make him feel even worse.

"Well, let's get you out of here and into bed. You look exhausted, and maybe in the morning after a good night's rest, things will look different."

Her words, meant to be comforting, were anything but. He allowed her to grasp his arms at the shoulders and guide him to stand, and he was like a lifeless doll as she wrapped her arms around him. He knew what she was risking, and a small weak chuckle came from him. "Sweetheart, you know you're messing up your suit."

"I don't care." She held him tighter. "I just want to hold you, to let you know that whatever happened, I'm here for you." Elsa pulled her head away from his dripping chest and her eyes were full of the desire to protect him. "I love you, Sammy. Nothing can ever change that."

His countenance threatened to break. "Don't, Elsa. You don't know what you're saying."

"I do. I love you, and my love is stronger than whatever it is that is plaguing you." Her hands framed his face and she kissed him.

Sam swore he could taste the remnants of the cinnamon gum as he dove into her loving lips. The memory of the flash and bang followed by a possibly innocent man going down flashed across his closed eyelids and renewed his self-loathing. He parted from her and backed up against the wall. He hid his eyes from her with his forearm, but she wouldn't stay away. Elsa caressed his arm, trying to convince him to drop it. Her other hand glided over his chest to his throat with light, gentle touches.

Her voice was full of emotion and ache for him as she asked, "What happened? What's got you so upset? Is it Michael? Is he okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Is Jesse okay?"

He nodded again.

"Was your mission successful?"

That was a loaded question. Sam wasn't sure, since the whole thing imploded from his killing the guard to Burke taking off in the chopper with Mike and the hostage, or whatever he was. None of it made sense. Only one thing he was sure of, and that was a man was not going home to his family tonight because of Sam's excellent marksmanship. Another wave of despair hit him behind the knees and Sam sunk to the floor with Elsa holding onto him in a vain attempt to keep him upright.

He didn't expect her to grab the sides of his face and force his head up until he looked her in the eye. "Sammy, I want to help you but I don't know what you need. Tell me. Please!"

Somehow, around a huge lump in his throat, he answered, "I shot and killed a guy today, Elsa. I shot him in the back, in cold blood."

He waited for her to react with disgust, but that didn't happen. Instead, his pain reflected in her expression and she hugged his head to her chest. "I know you, Sam. You would never indiscriminately shoot someone. You had a reason. Maybe not the best reason, but it was probably the lesser of two evils." She pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Am I right?"

Sam couldn't answer that question. "Later on, I had to grab a scoped rifle and shoot at Mike."

"You didn't hit him, did you?"

"No. I was ordered to take him out if things went south. I just... circumnavigated my orders, at least as far as Mike was concerned. Twice. And because of my actions, a guy is dead." If he'd been following orders, Mike would have been lying on that warehouse floor instead of the stranger. Not that he would feel any better about it. "Elsa, from the first day I was trained as a sniper, it was drilled into me to be careful about who I targeted. I... I didn't have time to think about that today."

Not knowing what to say, Elsa held him until he settled into her and wrapped his wet arms around her. She started to rise and to her delight he followed, clinging to her all the way. Her steps guided them to the bedroom. Elsa plucked a towel from the rack along the journey and pulled away long enough to give him a quick toweling off. She felt his eyes on her the entire time. Rising from drying his legs, she saw such sorrow in his eyes, it broke her heart.

"I'm sorry for burdening you with this... with me."

"Why do you say that, Sammy? I would never think of you that way."

Sam took the towel from her and ran it over his hair to soak up the excess water. "In a battle or a mission, when you're in the middle of things, you can't let what happens negatively affect you. It could kill you. I thought I could come home, grab a shower, and get to bed before you had to deal with any of the fallout." He caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry, honey."

"It's okay. I have a feeling that as long as you're running off to help Michael, this won't be the first time you're overwhelmed." She kissed his lips, a brief press before saying, "I just want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter how horrible it is, you can come home to me."

He fought the tears when she took him into her arms.

"You are not a monster. The fact that you're so broken up about this proves it." She pulled away and released the button holding her damp suit jacket together. With a small smile, she said, "Let's go to bed, and if you feel like talking about it, we'll talk. If not, just lay there and let me love you."

"That's the best offer I've had all day," he said with a sad smile.

Elsa stripped down and joined him under the covers. Her movements were slow and tender, with the promise of more if he wanted it. Sam basked in it, falling asleep under her attention, hoping for dreams of the future rather than nightmares of the past. He was past exhausted and needed rest like a dying man needs comfort. It had been a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The bed was on fire, or so it seemed to Sam as he rolled to the left and almost fell off the side. He rolled to the right and ran into something before winding up on his back again. Restless and sweltering, Sam opened his eyes and sat up, surprised at his surroundings. He thought he was in the penthouse, but that must have been a dream.

He was in the jungle again, dawn was breaking, and it was unnaturally quiet, causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise. It didn't help matters that he was alone. He heard a soft thump and turned toward the sound as he got out of his makeshift bed, slipped into a pair of shorts, and picked up his handgun. Panic gripped him when he couldn't find his rifle, and he considered that whoever made that sound might have stolen it while he was asleep. Following the sound, he stole along the swath cut through the jungle and came upon a gentle stream. He hadn't realized until that moment how parched he was. He checked the area around him until he was certain he was alone and let out a breath in relief, but not even the sound of water flowing over the rocks could entice him to relax. He laid the gun on the ground and cupped his hands to catch the cold, clear water while his senses were on alert for the enemy.

"Sammy?" Elsa's soft voice and a light caress on his bare shoulder brought him back to reality.

He gasped as he picked up the gun and turned, his hand knocking a glass off the counter as he leveled the weapon at Elsa. The glass hit the tile floor and shattered into hundreds of pieces, and Elsa also gasped and jumped back to avoid stepping on the shards in her bare feet. She looked up at him and her eyes widened in fear because the shadows from the early morning light made him look menacing.

"Sammy, are you okay?"

It dawned on him that he was pointing a gun at the woman he loved. Horrified, yet thankful that the safety was still on, he lowered it, set it on the counter, and replied, "Yeah." He blinked and glanced around the room, awake now with eyes full of confusion. "Hey, how did I wind up in the kitchen?"

"You got up and walked right in here," Elsa replied. She reached past him, turned off the tap that was still running, and she wrapped a hand around his elbow to lead him away from the mess on the floor. "Were you aware of what you were doing?" He shook his head, and she declared, "You must have been sleepwalking."

He ran a hand through hair that was matted with perspiration. "Man, I haven't done that since I was a kid."

Elsa couldn't help but smile. "At least you put something on. If you'd gone out the door..." Her eyes skimmed his body, stopping at the boxers.

Sam laughed nervously. Wandering around the hotel without clothes on would have been the least of his worries. He'd been carrying a loaded gun, a fact that he was sure wasn't lost on Elsa, and her next words confirmed it.

"Sammy. You can't keep doing this to yourself." Her eyes were sober and full of pity.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about." He tensed as he lied and looked for a way to escape, but she reached out and slipped a hand around his neck and pulled him closer.

She looked into his eyes and said, "Don't give me that crap. You're trying to deal with something that's too big for you, and if you won't let me help... I think you need to see someone professionally." She led him to the two barstools that sat on the other side of the breakfast bar. Waiting until he settled into one, Elsa took his hands in hers and ordered him, saying, "Talk to me."

The mission was supposed to be top secret, but Elsa deserved to know why he was so tormented. One of the things he learned over the past year was that he could tell her anything and she would keep it confidential. Sometimes he needed a reminder of that. He'd made himself vulnerable again through his sleepwalking antics, and the best thing to do was to trust her with some of the details of his latest job.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out before speaking. He reviewed the scene for Elsa so she could see what cards he'd been dealt, and she sat on the barstool facing him and listened, hanging onto his hands, never letting go no matter how ugly the narrative. He finished and said, "Shooting that guy, I can't get over it. It's like every kill I ever made has come back to haunt me and I wonder if I was justified in any of them." A sense of weariness came over Sam, and he folded his arms on the bar and rested his head on them. "I shouldn't have shot to kill, Elsa. Not in this case."

"From what you said, it sounds like he was threatening Michael. And that Burke guy told you to kill Michael if things went bad. That's one hell of a rock and a hard place, Sammy. You did what you thought was best."

"I could have just wounded the guy, Elsa. The alarm had already been sounded, and more guys were coming." The memory came back as clear as ever and he released a deep sigh.

Elsa mirrored his sigh, and she developed that look, the one she wore when she got down to business. "Okay, let's say you shot him in the leg, or the arm, or someplace that would have put him on the ground. Then what? He still might have been able to shoot and kill Michael."

He raised his head and retorted, "I shot him in the back, Elsa. It's cowardly, dishonorable, and just plain wrong on so many fronts!"

"So in the name of honor you should have let your best friend die. I see." She nodded as she sat back and folded her arms. "I suppose some day if I were to walk into a bank, and it gets robbed, and some guy is holding a gun on me, you'll opt not to shoot him because that would be wrong." She paused. "And I would be dead."

"That's not the same."

"Isn't it?" Her eyes glistened. "If you can't protect the ones you lo... you know are the good guys, then the bad guys will win. I would think by now you've learned that they don't give a damn about what's truly right and wrong."

"Rules are there to keep us from being just as bad as the bad guys," he countered.

"Whatever the case, what's done is done. All this worry and rehashing isn't going to change the outcome. You need to learn to forgive yourself and move on."

"Easier said than done." Sam covered his eyes with his hands to hide the tears. "I find myself wondering if the guy had a family, and how his death affected them..."

"You can't torture yourself like this! You can't! That man made a bad choice. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Michael made a wrong choice by going back to the CIA and getting himself and you into this mess." She took a calming breath and spoke in a softer tone as her hand caressed his wet cheek. "The whole situation was bad. Don't let it drag you down. Learn something from it, forgive yourself, and keep going."

"You're right, but I just can't seem to make that leap."

Elsa kissed the tip of his nose and her hand cradled his face as her thumb ran across the wet stains. "If you weren't this upset, I'd worry about you. You're a kind, loving man, and you've had to dip your toe into the cesspool again. But you've left that life before, Sammy. You can leave it behind again, and if you need to get help, I'll take care of it."

"No, I don't need a shrink. Just you to kick me in the pants now and then and remind me who I am." A soft smile crossed his face for the first time in days. "It might not be easy."

"I know." She pressed her lips to his and sent a tingle through them. "I'm up to the challenge. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Sam watched Elsa step away and pick up the phone, and as she spoke to someone on the other end, the love he felt for her swelled in his chest. He was thankful to have a woman who loved him so deeply. Sam thought of Mike. He had no idea where he was or if he was okay. Mike needed someone to love him too, a woman who could ease his pain and take away the sting of the nightmares. Mike had that with Fiona, but he screwed up and lost her. Sam didn't want to make that same mistake with Elsa. Judging by her tenderness earlier and the smile on her face as she hung up the phone, he had nothing to fear.

"Well, that's settled." She gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Grab a shower and get dressed Sammy. By the time we get to the marina the yacht will be ready, and we can take a day cruise to help get your mind off things."

Sam smiled, took Elsa into his arms, and kissed her. "Thanks, Baby. You really know how to brighten a guy's day." He resolved to do as she said, forget about his problems and have a good time. He couldn't completely divorce himself from thoughts of Mike, but he had confidence that his friend would contact him if he needed help. And maybe someday Mike could get what he needed; freedom, love, and a life away from the terrors that had become normal for him.

* * *

Being on the open water did something to Sam. It was liberating and it made his pulse race in a good way. Nothing but water and more water surrounded them as the yacht skimmed over the waves in a gentle rhythm. It was a perfect day for cruising, but the sun was hot, so he and Elsa took a little break down below for awhile. Having her under his control, the sensation of her skin against his, it was a balm to his soul. They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice at first when the boat stopped and bobbed on the waves.

When Sam wrested his lips from Elsa's he sensed that something was wrong. "Elsa."

She blazed a trail of kisses up his neck and mumbled, "What? It can wait."

"We've stopped." He pushed himself off of her and sat on the edge of the bed, twisting to look out one of the portholes. "Yeah, we're not moving."

"What the... we're supposed to be sailing toward the Bahamas." Elsa scrambled off her side of the bed. "Do you think..."

"I don't know what to think. Just get dressed and stay here. If I'm not back in a minute… let's just hope it doesn't come to that." He threw on his clothes and hurried up the steps to the conning deck.

Elsa dressed without question, although her imagination raced with all sorts of terrible possibilities. She wanted to know what was happening topside, but she trusted that Sam knew what he was doing. She would wait for the all clear. If it didn't come, she knew where he kept the guns. He taught her how to use them. She just didn't like the idea of having to use one and accidentally shoot the wrong person.

The sudden revelation hit her, and she dropped onto the corner of the bed as if she'd been punched in the midsection. As an inexperienced civilian scared to death of firing a gun, she tried to imagine what it must have been like for Sam to know what he was doing and yet have to shoot someone. It was no wonder he felt guilty. A minute had gone by, but Sam didn't call for her. She grabbed one of the smaller pistols and hurried up to the deck.

Sam and the Captain stood side by side peering through binoculars. Approaching Sam, Elsa asked, "What's happening?"

"There's a boat out there, looks dead in the water," Sam replied. "The Captain just called it in to the Coast Guard."

"Well, why don't we go see if they need help," Elsa asked. "Or do they look suspicious?"

"We haven't been able to figure that out yet. It could be drug runners or some people just out for a joy ride." Sam studied the boat through his binoculars, and as he watched the three people on board his lips parted. "Okay, that flashing we saw is a flair that somebody's waving back and forth. The other two are bailing out the stern. It must be taking on water." He turned to the Captain and ordered him. "Go."

"But Sir..."

"I said kick it in gear, mister. If you don't, when we get back to land you'll be looking for a new job. Get it?" He raised an eyebrow, and the threatening look that he used in the past to motivate subordinates worked on the Captain.

"Aye, Sir."

The yacht engines kicked in and the boat picked up speed, closing the distance between it and the small cruiser. While Elsa and Sam stood on deck watching the people, he took the pistol from her and stuck it under his shirt. He picked up the binoculars again and watched as the three people loomed larger, standing on the front of the floundering boat waving their arms. "There's a man, woman, and a child on that boat." Not very threatening on first glance, but Sam knew from experience that the most straightforward situations could often blow up in a heartbeat. He forced down thoughts of the day before and focused on the present.

The first mate dropped anchor and Sam reached for the rail on the small cruiser as the yacht slid to a slow crawl beside it. The man on the smaller vessel came forward and took the rope the first mate threw and lashed the two boats together near the bow. The woman, excited and nervous, chattered, "Oh, thank God someone found us! We put out a signal to the Coast Guard but we didn't get a response. A half hour, wasn't it, dear? A half hour and nobody bothered to look for us!"

Sam held up a hand and asked, "Is everybody okay? Nobody's hurt?"

"We're fine," the man answered with gratefulness in his tone. "We hit something under the surface, and the next thing we knew we were sinking."

"You got everything you want to salvage?" Sam reached for the little boy's hand, pulled him over the rail, and set him on his feet on the yacht's deck.

"Unfortunately, everything is underwater," the woman replied as she accepted Sam's assistance getting onto the yacht.

The man leaped across the narrow divide and landed on both feet. He smiled at Sam and held out his hand. "Thanks, man. My name is Mike, Mike Rose. This is my wife Sallie and our son, Ben."

"Sam Axe, and this is my girlfriend, Elsa. This is her boat."

Mike glanced around at the fancy yacht, his expression showing that he was impressed. "Thank you for coming when you did. I was ready to break out the lifejackets if things got any worse, but I wanted to hold off until the last second before we dove in. There've been reports of sharks in the area."

The gravity of the family's situation seemed to hit them at that moment, and Sallie's slim frame shook. Mike gathered her into his arms, and Ben clung to his parents. Sam studied the family and was glad he went with his gut instead of the Captain's caution. He smiled reassuringly and said, "It's a good thing we came along when we did. We'll untie your boat before it goes down and tries to take us with it."

Mike forced himself out of his daze and said, "Yeah. Yeah, good idea."

The men loosened the ropes that held the boat in place, and the smaller vessel sank in slow motion beneath the blue green water. Sam heard a soft sob come from Sallie, and he felt sorry for the Rose family. He glanced at Elsa and saw her lead the woman and boy toward the back of the boat.

Elsa spoke in a cheerful voice. "Why don't you come with me. You can settle in and enjoy the ride, have something to drink. I bet you're thirsty after being out there in that hot sun."

"Yes, ma'am," Ben answered with such enthusiasm, Sallie chuckled.

The women's voices faded as Elsa led them to the back of the yacht. Sam broke away from watching her and asked Mike, "Where did you guys sail out of?"

"The Grove Marina," Mike answered, his eyes on the last of the bubbles marking where the boat sank under the waves. "We had a slip there."

"No problem. We'll get you back to the marina." Sam grinned, patted Mike's arm, and led him to the aft deck. "In the meantime, just relax. You want a beer?"

Mike gaped at him for a moment before he asked, "What have you got?"

Sam grinned. "Nothing but the best." He served his guest, took a bottle for himself, and the two parked their butts in a couple of cushy chairs facing the location where the small boat disappeared. The women had gone below deck with Ben, leaving them alone.

"I feel like such an idiot, Sam."

"Why?" He took a sip and turned his attention to Mike.

"I used to have a wave runner on the back of the boat for emergencies, but we never used it, so I took it off. It was just causing weight drag and killing my fuel economy." He snorted. "Not that that old thing was very efficient to begin with. If you guys hadn't found us when you did, we would have been bobbing around in the ocean waiting for the sharks to get us. Stupid."

"We all do things we wish we hadn't, after we've seen it from a different perspective. I had a situation just yesterday when I had to do something I didn't want to do, but a friend's life was at stake."

"That's rough." Mike took a long swig of his beer.

"Yeah, and now I have to live with the negative results of what I did. I saved my friend, but at someone else's expense." Sam wasn't sure why he was telling a total stranger this, but the words came out without thinking.

"I guess when you put it into perspective, our situation was pretty trivial."

"Lives are never trivial, Mike. That's one thing I've learned over the years." He fell silent, thinking about the previous days' events. It still ate at his gut, but Mike Rose gave him a reminder that sometimes you can find yourself in an impossible situation and no action is the right action. He'd hung around Michael Westen too long. The man didn't know how to accept a winless scenario and always found a way to make things work. For the rest of the planet, things didn't always come out that way.

The Captain turned the yacht back to port, and the Rose family spent a low-key afternoon with Sam and Elsa leaving their cares behind. Seeing them open up, smile, and laugh was healing for the family and for Sam. Real people living a normal life was something he hadn't seen for awhile, and after the last mission, it was welcome. The Captain tied off at the end of the marina because their boat was too big to park in the Roses' slip. The grateful family hugged Sam and Elsa and thanked them again for their kindness before walking away hand in hand toward their car while Ben tagged behind his father.

Sam let out a satisfied sigh and put his arm around Elsa. "I needed that today."

"I was hoping for something to get your mind off things, but I wasn't expecting anything like this!" She laughed and snuggled deeper into his side. She looked up at him with curiosity in her eyes. "How do you feel?"

"I feel like yesterday is in the rearview, honey, but it's gonna take some time to leave it behind." He took a deep breath of sea air and smiled. "Today's been a good day."

The couple returned to the yacht and the Captain sailed them back to where it docked. They were in good spirits, and Sam had planned to take Elsa someplace nice for dinner to thank her for her love and support. He saw a man standing at the end of the dock wearing a dark suit and a grim expression, and he knew his afternoon would take an unwelcome turn.

"Mr. Axe?"

"Yeah. That's me."

"Mr. Westen has requested your assistance again," the man in the suit reported without introducing himself. The CIA badge he held up was introduction enough.

"What? I just got back yesterday."

"I understand that, Sir, but Westen contacted us late this morning and said he needed you immediately."

"Where?"

"Everything has been arranged. You'll be heading to Cuba as soon as you get in the car." He glanced at Elsa and nodded an apology.

Elsa held onto Sam's arm tighter and said, "Cuba? Sam..."

He turned Elsa to face him and kissed her. "It's okay, Baby. I'll be back before you know it." He looked into her eyes and saw the fear and worry.

She swallowed back her misgivings, kissed his lips as she embraced him, branding him with her love. "Be careful. I'll be waiting for you."

He smiled, a wave of love rising up inside. "I'll do my best." Sam kissed her as if it would be the last time, and he didn't care that the agent stood watching with embarrassment on his face. "Love you."

"Love you too, no matter what."

As Sam rode in the passenger seat of the agent's car, he watched Elsa waving with tears rolling down her face. This time he would make things right, and he would come home with a clear conscience. He'd had enough of long days and nights.


End file.
